


The Worst Missionary

by savantwiththegame



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adopted Keith (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Historical, Cuban Lance, Filipino Allura, Filipino Coran, Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Kendo Instructor Keith, Korean Keith (Voltron), M/M, Missionary Lance, Samoan Hunk (Voltron), Slow Burn, Taisho Japan, White American Pidge lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25495777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savantwiththegame/pseuds/savantwiththegame
Summary: It's 1923. Lance is an American missionary desperately seeking adventure, Keith is a kendo instructor who can't figure out what he wants. When the two of them meet in Lance's assigned church in Tokyo will they finally find the clarity they're looking for?
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Kudos: 10





	The Worst Missionary

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic! Be gentle with me but also I love some raging criticism lol
> 
> Tags and rating may change as the story goes on, not super sure yet!
> 
> POV will switch between Lance and Keith every chapter :)

Usually when one moves to foreign country with no prior knowledge of it, the expectation is that there’s going to be a learning curve-- for language, culture, geography, all of it. So why didn’t Lance think about the fact that he knew virtually no Japanese before hopping on a boat with his two best friends to cross the Pacific? He still didn’t know the answer. But Tokyo was beautiful: sprawling wooden bridges connecting tiny wooden houses and shops to larger, grander, more Westernized buildings. The food was delicious, sure he got a few stares here and there for being one of the very few non-Japanese people there, but overall, it was beautiful, interesting, and engaging. Too bad he still couldn’t speak the damn language. 

It had been a month since their ship had docked in the harbor after their fifteen day journey and Lance could buy food, say hello, please, and thank you, and nothing else. Almost everyday he made his short walk from the house he, Pidge, and Hunk shared to the small church at the end of the road, passing by various vendors, signs, and other people making their daily commutes. It was all so exhilarating and intensely interesting, but eventually whatever hope of learning about a new culture he had was slowly fading as time went on and as he still struggled with the basics. Pidge and Hunk had picked up the language fairly quickly, the immersion doing wonders for them both. Lance was frustrated. This trip was his idea, his dream, and he had worked his ass off to convince the two of them to join him. So why was he the one having the hardest time acclimating? Lance frowned down at his house slippers. He sighed. His frustrations could wait, he had a whole day ahead of him. Slipping on his shoes and grabbing his worn briefcase, he slid the door shut and looked out at the bustling street in front of him. Shaking his head quickly, Lance glanced to his left and saw the udon and tempura shops and shot a quick wave and an “Hola!” at their owners. Shiro and Allura smiled and waved back and then he was off. 

As Lance weaved through the crowds of people he couldn’t help but look around him in awe. Even though he’d been in Tokyo for a month, the newness and wonder still hadn’t worn off yet. As he gazed at the colorful signs covered in a script he still didn’t understand, he thought about what the streets back home had looked like. San Francisco was cluttered in a similar way, but definitely dirtier and coated in the smoke left behind by the trolleys that zipped throughout the city. A pang of homesickness struck him as he smiled softly at the ground and continued to walk. A thought struck him and he quickly checked his briefcase for his little English to Japanese dictionary, rifling through the various books and papers, desperately searching until suddenly he walked right into the man in front of him and dropped his briefcase. Horror-struck, he shot his head up and immediately mumbled a “Sumimasen!” The man was slightly shorter but looked much stronger and had a wooden sword strapped to his waist. He looked to be about the same age as him and had dark indigo eyes that disarmed Lance. As Lance continued to internally panic at his blunder and the striking features of the stranger, the man looked at him strangely and rolled his eyes. He said something Lance didn’t understand in a cross tone and waited for an answer. Blinking and stammering, Lance attempted to say something along the lines of “Sorry I don’t speak much Japanese,” but couldn’t get any of the words out. Raising an eyebrow seemingly realizing the futility of the situation, the man shook his head and walked away muttering under his breath. As he came back to his senses, Lance felt crestfallen. Here was yet another local interaction that he had fumbled his way through. As he picked up his briefcase and gathered the papers that had fallen out, a hand extended in front of him, holding his little dictionary that he had been searching so hard for. “Be more careful next time.” Lance’s head shot up gaping at the stranger as he slowly reached out and took the book. “Yeah… Thanks.” The stranger quirked a little smile and continued on his way. Frozen, Lance sat there, crouched and staring at the dictionary in his hand until he was finally jostled by the other people walking in the street. Scrambling to his feet, he searched for the man who had just spoken English to him, desperate to find him and just talk. He had disappeared. Lance sighed and patted himself off and started walking to the church, dragging his feet. 

When he finally reached the small white chapel, he sighed and opened the door. The smiling face of the head minister greeted him, “Hey Lance! Don’t you have Tuesdays off? And why so glum?” Lance sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and looked up, “Couldn’t find anything to do today so I figured I’d come in.” He paused, “And I just had a weird run-in with some guy. He spoke English.” Matt looked at him gently, “Was he rude to you or something?” “No, if anything I was rude to him… but it was an accident! I was so surprised by his English that by the time I realized what had happened he was gone. I just wanted to talk to him, you know?” Humming, Matt laid a hand on his shoulder. “Well I hope you run into him again sometime soon and get to have that conversation.” Smiling, Lance shrugged, “Yeah, it’ll happen. I can feel it. Just got excited especially after a slow morning.” Looking at Matt, he felt even more homesick than he had earlier. Pidge and Matt’s parents had contacted this sister church to their own back in San Francisco and had sent Matt a year earlier to take over from the previous leadership. Matt was the one who settled the three of them into their house and lined up their jobs and responsibilities. In a lot of ways, he was an integral part of their experience in Tokyo, but at the same time he also served as a reminder of home and the family Lance had left there. Still, they had found a companionship through their mutual yearnings for adventure and Lance wouldn’t trade their friendship or their journeys for anything at this point. He loved it in Tokyo, even if it was still hard to transition. Matt had created that opportunity for him, and for that, he owed him everything. 

“Hey space case, ready for some bible study? I know it’s technically your day off but if you’re here we might as well put you to work!” Matt winked. Groaning, Lance looked back at him, “Oh heavenly father forgive Matt for being lame.” “Hey!! We’re here for a reason! Spreading the good word and all that. And the sake isn’t too bad either,” he shrugged playfully. “Alright alright I’ll go set up now.” Shaking his head lightly, Lance chuckled and headed back to the meeting room. What a bunch of missionaries they were. Sure, they had service every Sunday but they all knew that what was an exciting endeavor to “spread the good word” to the Holt parents, was really an extended adventure for their little gang of friends. Still, it paid and was a way to leave the oppressive and more established churches their parents had led back home. As Lance finally began to lay out his stacks of Japanese and English pamphlets and bibles, he noticed someone in the doorway. 

“What’s the point.” Rolling his eyes he answered, “Good morning, Pidge.” “No but seriously, what’s the point? No one really stops by on the weekdays anyway. We might as well just play hooky and go catch a show or something.” Lance looked up from his neat spread of papers, “I know,” he paused and narrowed his eyes at her, “that very _few_ people come on the weekdays, but it’s still the job. Plus it’s not like you actually do anything productive here when you’re ‘working’ anyway.” With a huff, Pidge turned and began to exit. “Wellllll anyway, I have something that I’m working on that’s gonna knock your socks off when you see it so, hold off on the judgmental stares, got it?” A pause. “And Hunk has something going in the kitchen if you’re hungry. I guess.” With that, Lance’s eyes widened and with a ruffle of Pidge’s hair bounced up and dashed to the kitchen. “Thanks, Pidgey, you’re the best! I love you!” Already out of earshot of her grumbles and gripes, Lance burst into the kitchen to see what Hunk could have possibly concocted this time. 

“Hunk, my MAN, what have you got for me today?” Two pairs of eyes shot up to Lance as he suddenly registered one of those pairs of eyes. His jaw dropped. Oblivious to the dumbstruck look on his best friend’s face, Hunk smiled and turned back to the big pot he had bubbling on the stove, “Hey buddy! Got some sukiyaki cooking here that’ll be ready in a few minutes. Isn’t it your day off though?” When he didn’t get an answer, Hunk turned back around to see Lance staring at the very man he had bumped into earlier standing on the other side of the kitchen. “Oh right, you haven’t met Keith yet, have you? He comes in every Tuesday to help clean or fix things.” Lance continued to stand there, slack jawed, slowly nodding and processing what was happening in front of him. “Uhhhh. Hi… Keith.” Keith slowly looked Lance over and remained silent. After a slight pause he chuckled, “You know when I told you to be more careful, I didn’t really mean looking for someone to do it for you again.” Flustered, all Lance could do was stare at this man apparently named Keith, who apparently knew his friends, and apparently had been at the very church he worked at for the past month while his face steadily turned redder and redder. “Sumimasen!” He managed to squeak out as Keith’s intense gaze never wavered from his own. Amused, Keith’s lip curled, “Is that all you know how to say in Japanese?” “Um. No! Yes? Sort of. I…” Hunk continued to watch their interaction, wide-eyed as his ever talkative and ever eloquent friend momentarily struggled with seemingly his most basic function. He cleared his throat, “Uhh guys? Lunch is ready…?” Keith’s gaze snapped back to Hunk, “Well, I’ve eaten already so I’ll go back to those repairs I was working on. Thanks, Hunk.” He paused for a moment then smirked, “Later, Lance.” And in a flurry of his robes he was gone. Blinking, Lance slowly turned to Hunk and as his friend tried to ask what had just happened, all that he could think about was those eyes and that smirk.


End file.
